Both were silent and weren't showing signs of backing down. I suddenly sensed an oncoming blow from the other vampire toward Louis—I had no idea if it was mental or physical—and I reacted on impulse and stepped between the two, then forcefully pushed the other vampire away. He stumbled backward and was caught by two other vampires. He hissed, infuriated, and was about to lunge at me when one of the two vampires held him back. His maker, I thought. Louis didn't wait to see if the trouble was over and turned his back on all of us, walking over to his corner of the room, sitting to continue his silent watch over our maker.
I turned my attention back to the rogue vampires, finally intent on settling the matter peacefully, but found Maharet in my place, speaking silently with them. The older ones of the other vampires were listening intently, and seemed to be agreeing with her.
Then I felt Maharet make an open mental message, directed toward the other vampires. I was shocked. She sent a warning that anyone who threatens a member of our coven, similar to what had recently happened with Louis, would be killed. Her warning caused a slight commotion among those already inside. Most took the warning seriously, but some sneered at it and ignored her.
Somewhat satisfied, Maharet returned to her watchful place, and resumed her conversation with Marius. What the two could be talking about so often these nights was beyond me.
"Is he unharmed?" Khayman asked, coming beside me.
I nodded. "He's alright." We both looked toward his direction. Louis was once again seated against the far wall, knees raised, arms crossed loosely on his abdomen. His gaze was directed at Lestat's unmoving form, but his attention seemed entirely on something else.
"Kindly watch over your brother, David," Khayman said in a low whisper. "You are the best suited to do so. I fear for him."
I nodded again, somewhat touched by Khayman's concern. Khayman left my side and joined Maharet and Marius, giving Gabrielle, who was seated next to Pandora, a brief nod, as if acknowledging a mental inquiry, before joining in on the conversation.
I also gazed at Lestat's form, feeling a sadness I chose not to acknowledge before build up inside me. Had Lestat found escape, finally? Had he found a means to "end it all", as he so liked to put it?
And what of Louis, who had trusted in and clung desperately to the promises he so carelessly dropped during his livelier days?
"_I would never let anyone harm you._"
He _had_ said those words, that immortal promise of protection. Did Louis think of them now, when he had just been threatened, and in front of the unseeing eyes of his maker?
_Lestat, where are you?_ I asked quietly, looking at the silent form, wishing he would move or speak. _Louis' life has been in danger twice now, and you weren't here to help him._
I walked toward Louis, intent on speaking with him, which I would have done earlier that night if not for that brief encounter with another of our kind. I was already standing beside him, but he didn't stir, having that same, distracted look on his face as before. I sat down gently beside him, feeling as if I was trespassing on his private space, and laid a hand on his shoulder to try and draw him out of his thoughts.
He blinked a few times at the contact; I saw his eyes clear somewhat as he did so, as if a mist was removed from them. He looked at me, those green eyes that were shining with such emotion a while ago now appeared strangely without brightness. As he recognized me, he moved a bit farther away, adjusting to face me.
"Yes, David?" he asked. If I had not witnessed it myself, I would never have thought that the same voice was capable of conveying anger. Right then, his short outburst a few minutes ago was fading from the moment, just another thing out of the ordinary that would only be recalled if something akin to it happened again.
I realized that Louis will probably never be "well" as long as Lestat was away from us, but I felt a need to try and perhaps lighten his pain. "Louis, what's wrong?" I asked, unaware of any other way to try.
He gave me a small smile, as if I was asking something everyone knew. Which I was. "You know what's wrong," he said.
"He's coming back. You know he is. He always has, hasn't he?"
He averted his gaze. "I'd...like to think so."
I was about to assert my point when I noticed his left hand clutch subconsciously at his coat pocket. As he disturbed the fabric, a piece of silver chain slipped out, shining in bright contrast to Louis' black clothes. Louis had not taken the chain, and didn't seem to have noticed that it was about to fall out.
"What's that in your pocket, if you don't mind my asking?" I said, gesturing toward the mentioned object. Louis looked at me, then looked at his clothes, trying to determine which pocket. He saw the chain, blinked at it, then took it out with his left hand slowly.
It was a silver necklace—simple, but very elegant—with a small green stone, perhaps an emerald, set in the middle. He held it in his hand for a while, looking curiously at it as it dangled in the air, as if not knowing what it was doing there.
"Louis...?" I said, for he had been staring at the object far too long for comfort.
"This...it's mine," he said quietly, laying the necklace down on his lap, playing idly with the long chain. "He gave it to me, years ago." He wrapped the long chain in the fingers of his hand, then left the stone in his palm. "I was going to put it away...I took it from the dresser, but...," he sighed in frustration, "Forgive me. I've been forgetting a lot of things lately."
"There's nothing to forgive," I said, inwardly hoping I hadn't asked. He was upset now, his brows furrowed, wondering how he could have left the flat with the necklace in his pocket. And it seemed he had once again forgotten I was there.
To draw him out, I took the necklace from his hands, gently unwrapping the silver chain, and took it in my own. I looked more closely at it. "It's very beautiful," I said in genuine appreciation. Of course, the stone was flawless—it wouldn't be like Lestat to buy it with even the slightest crack—and the cut was smooth and well-proportioned. "When did he give you this?"
"A few years ago, after Akasha," came the soft reply.
"I'm glad it didn't burn with your house," I said, wondering why I hadn't seen it or why it wasn't mentioned before. I turned the stone over and saw that there was a faint trace at the metal—an inscription of some sort. I tried viewing it with better lighting, but most of the words were marred so I couldn't make them out. "What does the inscription behind it say?"
I saw him look up sharply as I asked this. He had drifted off again while I was looking at the necklace, and had snapped out of it upon hearing my question. "What? I'm sorry, I was--"
"—several miles away," I finished, giving him a small smile. "You seem to be brooding a lot these days."
He ran a hand through his hair, an act that he does more habitually than keeping his hair away from his face. "I know," he said in a low voice, "I can't help it." His head snapped up suddenly, his gaze directed toward Lestat's general area. I followed his line of sight and saw that what had alarmed him was that one of the other vampires had stepped a bit too close to Lestat's form, but had retraced his steps and resumed merely watching with the others. Louis was glaring at them, his eyes shining a bit with the anger he had unleashed earlier. "I want them out of here," he whispered. "They want his blood."
I nodded, unsure of how to appease him. Deciding on staying silent, I opted to look back at the necklace I held in my hand. The inscription seemed clearer, and the rust could probably be scraped away. I rubbed my thumb against the metal, removing brown dust as I did so. I was aware of Louis watching me, but I continued, revealing the small message word by word.
When I had finished, the inscription was completely readable. The script was in Lestat's elaborate handwriting, equal and precise as if it had been carved by a machine. I handed the necklace back to Louis, who took it and held it in his hand.
"He likes to make promises like this," he said, giving a small, sad laugh. "There was a time when he made them everyday. You learn to ignore them, eventually."
"He's never kept one of them?" I asked, curious. It was rare that Louis talked of himself and Lestat.
"More like he's broken most of them, without knowing it all of the time." He took the necklace and placed it back in his pocket. "One of his many habits."
"Didn't know he had any aside from getting abducted by strange beings and breaking coven rules."
He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.
The soft murmurs around us suddenly grew stronger. We both looked up to find the source of the disturbance. We spotted it almost instantly—the same vampire that had almost assaulted Louis earlier was walking slowly, purposefully, toward Lestat, the others watching in quiet anticipation. I heard Louis give a sharp hiss, angry once again. It was strange to see him so quickly angered this night, in all our years together I had never before seen him as vexed as I was seeing him that one night. The most that I could remember in the past was an irate silence, after he and Lestat had had one of their infamous verbal battles.
"_Stop Louis,_" Khayman's mental voice said.
I suffered a second of indecision as I contemplated between Louis and the approaching vampire. "_But Lestat—_"
Louis had stood, surprising even me with his speed, but I reacted quickly and held on to his shoulder, keeping him back. He threw me a furious glare, as if incredulous that I was doing that to _him_, but still I pulled him back and held on to both his arms as he struggled to free himself.
"Let go of me!" he said. He was fighting furiously, amazing me with the sudden strength he was showing. I released his arms and locked my right arm across his chest, then held both of his wrists in my left hand. I bent my head to whisper in his hear, wishing he would calm down and stop struggling.
"There's nothing you could do, he's stronger than you." He seemed suddenly irrational in this state, far from the reasonable gentleman that I was accustomed to. "Louis, stop it!"
"What's wrong with you?!" he said, his voice conveying his desperation. "What's wrong with all of you?!"
I was about to explain that Khayman and the others wouldn't let it happen if it couldn't be controlled, that this young vampire wouldn't be able to drink from Lestat even if he reached him, but even as I tried to form these thoughts into words, my eyes locked on Lestat's still form. The vampire was already kneeling in front of Lestat, his fangs bared, ready to draw blood...
In a sudden movement almost too quick for my own eyes to see, Lestat's hand came up to swipe across the young vampire in a shower of flesh and blood, scattering pieces of the vampire across the chapel walls and floor. The vampire's associates wailed, crying out furiously as they sought out a living piece of their former comrade. Some of the other vampires ran out after this display, shouting out their shock and fear. The murmurs turned to loud screaming and enraged cries, filling the chapel with supernatural voices.
Louis had stopped struggling as he saw this, and later slumped downward, his knees giving way. My restrictive hold on him became one of assistance as I let him settle on the floor, leaning him against the wall while he looked at our maker.
A thin sheet of blood tears were gathering in his eyes while I settled beside him, and as I was facing him again, the tears fell across his face, the red streaks standing out in contrast to his white skin. He wept silently, shocked and relieved, shaken by the incident.
I offered a comforting arm and was answered. I drew him to me slowly, bowing his head against my shoulder, assisting his back as his sobs rocked his frail form. His weeping had mixed with those that had lost the foolish vampire who had approached Lestat, his sorrow almost similar and echoing their cries of hopelessness.
We stayed there for the rest of the night. Louis had eventually fallen asleep in my arms, and I sat silently lest I wake him. It had grown silent in the chapel again, as if a large part of the storm had passed, yet a large shadow still loomed over all of us. I leaned against the wall behind me and closed my eyes, trying to block off the murmurs of the strangers in the room and the quiet whispers of the others. My thoughts drifted to unlit chandeliers in old Victorian houses, and lackluster emeralds abandoned in glass-paned wooden cabinets.
-- End of Lackluster --